PS 2859 
S185 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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Slielf...SigF 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/howardgrayotherpOOsley 





AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



S>^ COPYRIGHT- "nS^ 

FEB 2 1B89 I) I 



BY 



AARON l; SLEYSTER. 



Preston, Minn, 



BRATTLEBORO, VT.: 

PRINTED BY FRANK E. HOUSH & CO., 

1888. 



COPYRIGHT 1888, BY A. L. SLEYSTER. 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 



To HER WHO MOST LOVINGLY HAS LAUNCHED WITH ME ON 
THE TEMPESTUOUS VOYAGE OF LIFE, AND IN WHOSE 
PERSON MY WORLDLY HAPPINESS IS CENTERED, I DEDICATE 
THE FOLLOWING LINES. A. L. S. 



PREFACE. 

The author of these hues does not make any 
pretentions to hterary abihty, since his original 
training and present circumstances give no allow- 
ance to such claims. His only aim being to give, 
in a few coarse outlines, certain pictures of life, 
showing that lamentable disposition which parents 
frequently exercise toward their children, which so 
often brings ruin and desolation in the after life of 
persons, whose youth promised once a happy man 
or womanhood. If this sketch will have the eflect 
to awaken a better sentiment in this respect, caus- 
ing parents to prefer virtue and ability to rank and 
finance, his feeble efforts will have been attained. 

A. L. S. 



INDEX. 

VXCK. 

Howard Gray D 

A Parody 55 

Spring 5(5 

Sweet Sixteen 57 

Lines in an ALBi-:\r ^q 

To Mother (jO 

Congratulation 02 

A Birthday Wish 02 

Courtship at the Seashore G4 

An Acrostic Og 

Ode to Prest< )N 09 

An Epitaph ji 

Fifty Below Zero 7] 

Welcome 7;. 

Twilight 74 

Epistle to John and David 74 

The Boat Ride j^ 

A Reply 79 

Ode to Algona 79 

To a Singer 32 

What do you Folks Want Here? 83 

A Sonnet gj 

Lines to Uncle and Aunt gg 

A Prairie Fire 90 

Lines to Miss 93 

Lines to a Young Lady 9^ 

Welcome Home 90 

Homeward 9g 



viii INDEX. 

A Fragment • : 99 

Companionship 1^0 

To A Hawthorn Blossom 103 

BreaivING a Colt 10^ 

Lines in an Album • 106 

Lines to a Lady Friend 107 

Worship on the Hill • 109 

To Mr. and Mrs. Smith . • HO 

Hush, the Summer Winds are Sighing • • HO 

Farmers' Song 1 1 1 

Farmer Harwood's Address to his Wipe 113 

Stanzas in an Album 117 

Lines to Ruth 118 



HO WAP GY\KY. 




CHILDHOOD. 

NE inorning in the month of May 
Among the hills I chanced to stray; 
To hear the merry songsters chime 
And fill my breast with thoughts sublime. 

I wandered 'neath the cloudless sky, 
The sweet w^ild flowers beguiled my eye; 
I drank the fragrant morning air, 
A thousand charms allured me ther*'. 

I climbed upon a sloping hill 
And spied the sparkling of a rill, 
While gazing on the dale below 
Where violets and daisies blow. 

How beautiful the glen did seem, 
The winding road, the babbling stream; 
The green clad hills on either side 
In grandeur with each other vied. 



10 HOWARD GRAY. 

A little cottage (now no more) 
Adorned this vale in days of yore; 
E'en now no trace is left to tell 
The tale, except an old, old well. 

Here in this cottage, years ago. 
There lived a dame whose step was slow. 
Through age and toil her form was bent, 

For well she knew what labor meant. 

Her brow o'er-cast with silvery hair. 
Old age had left its furrows there; 
Her dim gray eye and hollow cheek 
Of worldly care a- volume speak. 

She had a son, though not her own, 
Now fifteen years, almost full grown; 
It was her daughter's only child 
Who Grandma's waning life beguiled. 

His name is simply Howard Gray, 
Bright as a lark and quite as gay; 
A favorite with boys at school. 
And teachers also, as a rule. 

Tall for his age, as I have said. 
Dark hair, brown eyes, and cheeks so red; 
A splendid form and much tanned face, 
An image of both health and grace. 



CHILDHOOD. II 



Their home was small and nothing grand, 
But all their own; also the land 
On which it stood, an acre lot, 
To them on earth the dearest spot. 

And happy was the jolly pair; 
Though Grandma, full of anxious care, 
Young Howard soothed and cheered her on. 
Her only staft to lean upon. 

And thus they lived; years came and went; 
Their lives, though lowly, were content; 
Their income small and incomplete. 
But every year they made ends meet. 

But suddenly and unaware 
Young Howard was in dark despair; 
For Grandma's spirit was called home, 
And left him in this world alone. 

Oh, fearful was that lonely night! 
His very soul was filled with fright; 
He seemed to hear the breezes moan, 
"Howard, thou art left alone." 

They buried her on her own ground 
At her request; a little mound 
Beside her husband near the cot 
Was Grandma Howard's favored spot. 



12 HOWARD GRAY. 

Here Howard knelt upon the ground 
With aching heart and look profound; 
Where could he find a place to stay? 
And yet he must that self-same day. 

While musing thus, unnerved by grief, 
A neighbor came to his relief; 
A tricky man with forehead low. 
Who bore the name of Mr. Snow. 

One of his eyes was dim with tears, 
The other, meanwhile, blinked with sneers; 
His heart from whence the tears he drew 
Was full of speculation, too. 

If he could get this sturdy youth 
To stay with him, would be, in truth, 
A ready help upon the farm, 
Especially around the barn. 

To leave him here Vv^ould be a wrong; 
No doubt he'd get him for a song. 
So he assumed a piteous face 
In which an expert well could trace 

Deception of the meanest kind. 

To which young Howard was quite blind; 

His youth prevented him to see 

The vague look of hypocrisy. 



CHILDHOOD. . 13 

"Howard," said he, "don't worry so; 
To lose your home is hard, I know; 
It grieves me much to see you thus; 
My boy, just come and stay with us. 

I have no doubt but we'll agree; 
I've known you long, and you have me, 
You know our folks are good and kind; 
As good a home as you can find. 

I know they'll gladly welcome you. 
My wife and little Bessie, too; 
Now, Howard, just make up your mind. 
And come at once, if you're inclined." 

At this the youth sprang to his feet, 
And did not ask him to repeat 
The kindly message that he brought; 
Nor did he hesitate for aught, 
But grasped him warmly by the hand, 
"Kind sir," he cried, " at your command.'*' 

And while the sun casts its last rays, 
The western sky seemed all ablaze; 
The two start down the narrow road 
And reach in safety their abode. 



HOWARD GRAY. 



MR. SNOWS HOMESTEAD. 

'MAGINE now a farmer's yard, — 
Xo palace built for pomp or show; 
A simple house with barns and sheds, 
Such was the home of Mr. Snow. - 

Yet picturesque, with- all, this place; 

The high cliffs towering in the west 
All covered o'er with cedar shrubs, 

Protect it from the wintry blast. 

A spring comes oozing from the ground 
Beneath a bluffs and forms a rill, 

Which bubbles forth both nig-ht and day 
And slowly winds around the hill. 

Here at the spring at close of day 
The lowing herds will flock around, 

Which echoes through the deep ravine 
And w^akes the silent depth profound. 

We spy upon^the western slope, 
The snowy flocks are grazing still; 

We hear the bleating of the lambs 

While skipping up and down the hill. 



MR. snow's homestead. 

But turnincr now to Mrs. Snow. 

A gentle woman, kind and plain. 
Who treated everybody well, 

And in return received the same. 

Unlike her husband in his greed 

For wealth, possessions, land and pelf. 

She strove to live for others, too: 
Not alwavs thinking of herself. 

Their only daughter. Bessie, too. 

Was like her mother, kind at heart: 

And, though she was but twelve yea' s '^Id. 
She was as wise as she was smart. 

Here Howard stayed for five long years, 
And worked each day from morn till eve': 

And though he tried to please them all, 
One cent of pay he ne'er received. 

'Tis true his mistress was as kind 
To him as though he was her son: 

And Bessie cheered him more than all: 
His deep affections she had won. 

It happened thus, one morn in spring. 

The winter snows had passed away. 
When first the birds began to sing: 

"Twas in the merrv month of Mav, 



l6 HOWARD GRAY. 

That Howard, coming from the field, 
Was met by Bessie near the rill; 

And side by side they wandered home, 
Which made his h(;art with rapture thrill! 

For though he never told her yet, 

He loved the maid v^^ith all his heart. 

While she, though young and full of glee, 
Was also pierced by Cupid's dart. 

While walking thus they were espied 
By Mr. Snow, who was concealed 

Behind a heavy growth, near by. 
Of hawthorn bushes in the field. 

The old man muttered 'twixt his teeth. 
And swore full vengance on the youth; 

For, though they did not speak of love. 
Without a doubt he guessed the truth. 

He had his fears; for Howard was 
A boy no longer, but a man; 
"Perhaps he thinks to marry her 
But I'll prevent it vv^hile I can. 

To have my only daughter wed, 

A beggar of a lowly race, 
I'll never tolerate the match; 

To-mjrrow he must leave my place." 



MORN'IXG. 17 



MORNING. 

'EAUTIFUL morn at break of day, 
The dusky gloom half cleared away, 
And all around is still. 
The shades of night still linger near 
As if they lie in wait to hear 
The eternal Master's will. 

The earth in silence still is bound. 
And far or near, we hear no sound 

Save babbling of the rill; 
Far out upon the eastern sky 
The morning light we seem to spy 

Far, far beyond the hill. 

The grass and fields are wet with dew; 
Dim objects coming to our view, 

Show^ day is drawing near. 
The s waving of the lofty trees, 
Their branches floating on the breeze. 

Shake off the dewy tears. 

And now that glorious orb appears. 

The ligfht of day six thousand years 

Casts forth its gfolden rays. 



l8 HOWARD GRAY. 

A thousand birds are on the wing 
And make the air with music ring, — 
Proclaim the Maker's praise. 

This was the scene that met the eyes 
Of Howard who was first to rise, 

This lovely morn in spring; 
He ne'er in all his life before 
Beheld the aspect morning wore 

As such a glorious thing. 

He really did not miderstand 

Why everything appeared so grand 

Where'er his eye might fall; 
He did not know, thougfh he was wise. 
He only looked through Bessie's eyes,- 

So blind is love to all. 

He did not know so bright a morn 
Had dawned upon his life, forlorn 

With busy toil and care; 
Again the flocks await him now 
To which he makes with haste, I trow, 

With heart as light as air. 

Just as the breakfast bell was rung 

The morning chores were all done 

And they sat down to eat. 



THE APPROACHING STOKM. I9 

If Howard knew his fate in store. 
Could note the frown his master wore. 
No doubt his heart would beat. 

How httle did young Howard dream 
That soon a cloud should come between 

Him and his soul's delight. 
To know how soon his dream would end 
And part him with his nearest friend, 

Would blast his visions bright. 




THE APPROACHING STORM. 

FTER breakfast Howard lingered 
For a moment at the door. 
And he noticed that the bright sun 
With dark clouds was covered o'er 
And he heard the thunder roar. 

W^hat a chanofe in the brig'ht heavens 

All within a single hour! 

All the earth was brig-ht with sunshine. 

Now 'tis siofhincr 'neath a shower 

In submission to its power. 

While he thus in wonder pondered 
How a change could come so soon, 



20 HOWARD GRAY. 

Mr. Snow called his attention 
And invites him in his room, 
For, alas! to hear his doom. 

Howard, always quick and active, 
Followed him as heretofore. 
Thinking to receive his orders 
For the dav and nothino- more; 
But the old m"an shut the door. 



DECEPTION. 

jOWARD. sit down for a minute. 
For I have something to sav 
Regarding your future prospect; 
I \vish to inform you to-day. 

For some time I have been thinking 
It would be an excellent plan. 

For you to hunt up a fortune 
Like anv industrious man. 

Out West, you know, there are chances 
For any young man who will take 

Right hold of the plow and labor; 
There's thousands of acres to break. 



WOUNDED PRIDE. 21 

Just think, a farm of your own, sir; 

You sow and you reap what you please, 
And with a few years of good luck, boy. 

You may live in comfort and ease. 

By keeping you here a life-time, 
Would be a neglect on my part; 

You know I always am willing 
To give a young fellow a start." 



WOUNDED PRIDE. 

^HIS said, he gave a sudden glance 

At Howard, who seemed in a trance 
Scarce knowing what it all could mean; 
But soon awakened from the dream. 
And stretched himself to his full height 
With countenance alert and bright; 
His tone was manly, clear and brave. 
Unlike his master, who to save 
His ill-shaped mouth, spoke through his nose 
In tones as high as tenor goes. 

And Howard spoke: "Then be it so 
Since you're determined 1 shall go; 
But, pray before I leave your place. 
Explain to me why this disgrace 




22 



HOWARD GRAY. 



Should be inflicted on a youth 

\/^';S,; always dealt with you in truth; 

For well I know that all you said 

Are empty 'vords; and fear instead — 

The interest which you have in me, 

As to my future destiny, 

Is mere pretension, just to hide 

A sheep-pelt with a wolf inside." 



RAGE. 

jERE Mr. Snow burst forth with rage; 
"Think not that I am blind with age; 
For though my sight is failing me, 
With clear distinction I can see 
Youreftorts with^a honeyed word 
Without a cage to catch a bird. 
The reason, if you needs must know, 
Why I insist to have you go, 
Is simply that you do not seem 
To know there lies a gulf between 
My daughter born of better birth 
And you, the commonest of earth; 
E'en yesterday you walked with her 
And talked as though you really were 
Her equal both in birth and rank, 
A scheme quite common with a crank; 



TRUE MAMJOOD. 2^ 

And, now, please understand that I 

Dont let such liberties pass by 

Unheeded till it is too late, 

Nor trifle with my daughter's fate; 

I only, (any father would.) 

Use my own judgment for her good; 

Because at present she's too young 

To know to scorn a flatterinsr tongrue; — 

And, like all other girls, bv Jove, 

She believes there's such a thing as l<jve; 

And, so you see, it is but just; 

You asked for reason, and I trust 

This is sufficient; I attest 

L cave it at your own request." 



TRUE MANHOOD. 

'Y this time Howard's countenance 
Was statue-like; the avalanche, 
"'^ For one so young, was too severe. 
His thoughts were mingled pride and fear. 
But courage coming to his aid 
He ne'er was wont to be afraid; 
Replied in tone both firm and clear, 
" I'm satisfied with what I hear. 
That it is time for vou and me 
To part, since we cannot agrer; 
But still I contradict vour word: 



24 HOWARD GRAY. 

Your groundless fears seem too absurd; 

For in my life I never thought 

Nor did I breathe to her of aught 

That could awaken her pure mind, 

Nor felt at any time inclined 

To break the friendship which I hold 

Far dearer than you do your gold; 

And some day you may learn to see 

That you accused me wrongfully. 

But you have told me to depart, 

And I obey; but, ere I start, 

I wish to' sell the house and lot 

Which Grandma left me when she died; 

I hate to lose the little cot," — 

Here Howard's courage failed to hide 

The memories of long ago 

Which filled his aching heart with woe. 

Not long did silence thus prevail, 

For soon was heard the chink of eold. 

And for a paltry sum the house 
And lotto Mr. Snow was sold. 

Then Howard bargained for a steed, 
His noble Prince — a dappled gray— 

The finest horse for miles around, 
Well worth the sum he had to pay. 



TRUE MANHOOD. 25 

He then departed from the room, 

Where Mrs. Snow awaited him. 
She seemed to know what had transpired 

For both her eyes with tears were dim. 

Too full for words, she could not speak; 

But Howard, coming to her aid, 
Said all she'd done for him he hoped 

Some future day should be repaid. 

She did not interfere with Snow, 

For well she knew she could not move 

His iron will; and self conceit 

Would never bear to be reproved. 

At length she managed, through her tears. 

To tell him she was not to blame. 
And if she could prevent the step 

How gladly she would do the same. 

She held his hand with friendly grasp 

And spoke as only mothers do, 
With all the feeling of her heart, — 
"May Heaven's blessings follow you." 

Then Howard looked about the room, 

No trace of Bessie could he see; 
She was in her own room up-stairs 

To hide her grief and misery. 



HOWARD GRAY. 

Of all that had been said that morn 
No word escaped her anxious ear, 

JFor Mr. Snow did speak so loud 
That all within could plainly hear. 

So Howard went up to the barn 
And saddled there his noble steed; 

And for the last time to the trough 
His faithful animal did lead. 

With trembling hand he held the rein 
While Prince was prancing by his side; 

Hot tears escaping one by one, 

To hold them back in vain he tried. 

If he could get just one more glimpse 
Of Bessie ere he left the farm, 

It would do him a world of good 
And could not do her any harm. 

While lingering there a moment more, 
Towards the house he glanced an eye, 

And noticed Bessie came at length 
To bid her friend a last good-bye. 



CRUEL SEPARATIOX. 27 



CRUEL SEPARATION. 

[OW pure she looked, the peerless maid, 
With azure eyes which now betrayed 
Her loving heart and stainless mind, 
And sympathy for human-kind. 
No rose can ever blush so sweet 
To match the tint upon her cheek. 
And permanent this hue remains. 
The blue blood flowing through her veins 
Affords her grace and common sense. 
Much self-respect and innocence. 
Her long, smooth tresses in a braid 
Are of a sunny, golden shade; 
A few stray locks curl to and fro 
Around a brow as white as snow. 
She greets him with a sad, sweet smile, 
So sweet and melting it beguiled 
The lonely hour; his mind grew calm 
It seemed to be a soothing balm 
For the time being, but to fear 
When once away 't will re-appear — 
A keener pain than e'er before 
Without ceasing forevermore. 
With sobbing voice the maiden broke 
The silence, and with feeling spoke: 



28 HOWARD GRAY. 

"Howard, I've come to say good-bye; 
Accept this lock of hair and try 
To not forget your Httle friend; 
And promise me that you will send 
A message often; it will be 
So very lonesome now for me." 
She ceased 'mid smothered sobs and sighs 
While big, bright tears streamed from her eyes. 

Howard, watching her with fondness, 

Stood with folded arms to hear. 
Every precious word she'd spoken, 

Fell like music on his ear. 

So o'er-come with sudden sadness. 

Scarcely able to reply, 
Fully realizing what it 

Meant to bid a friend good-bye. 

Then in tones so full of feeling, 

Meanwhile trying to control 
The wild billows of emotion 

Fiercely raging in his soul. 

'• Little Bessie, I shall treasure 
This, thy lock of golden hair. 
And that you may e'er be happy, 
Is my fondest wish and prayer. 



CRUEL SEPARATION. 2g 

Now accept from me a token — 

This rino- mother used to wear; 
Would I had some nicer keepsake, 

Time prevented to prepare. 

How I wish I could repay you 

All the kindness shown to me; 
But for this may heaven bless you, 

Is my small reward for thee." 

Then he took her hand and held it. 

Raised it gently to his lips; 
Tears were freely flowing as he 

Kissed the dainty finger tips. 

"Now, good-bye, farewell, friend Bessie, 
I must go, but know not where; 
But our God who rules in heaven 
Will, I trust, a way prepare." 

Then he vaulted in the saddle. 

And reluctant rode away; 
Prince now being tired of waiting 

Was most anxious to obey. 

Through the mud and water splashing 

Caused by recent falling rain; 
Heavy clouds were moving onward — 

Swiftly through the heavenly train. 



) HOWARD GRAY. 

Bessie, motionless, "was standing 
Where he left her 'neath the elm; 

And her heart in deep affliction 
Seemed to sink and overwhelm. 

There she stood and watched him sadly 
Till he reached the last high hill; 

And she saw him 8;lancing backward 
Waving her a last farewell. 

Then she slowly staggered homeward, 

Entering the kitchen door; 
Feeling sick at heart and weary, 

She fell fainting on the floor. 



HOWARD'S FAREWELL TO THE OLD 
HOMESTEAD. 

" To leave the haunts of home where childish footsteps trod, 
To resignate that spot to life's destroying flood; 
To leave the road, the creek, the distant shady wood. 
This brings the human soul oft' in a gloomy mood." 

— Sipko Rcderus. 

AREWELL to the place of my birth and 
my childhood! " 

Said Howard while reaching his former 
abode. 
No more did he see his old Grandmother sitting 




HOWARD S FAREWELL TO THE OLD HOMESTEAD. :; T 

Beneath the old maple tree hard by the road. 
While gazing upon the quaint, old-fashioned cot- 
tage, 
The hard beaten path from the road to the door^ 
The balancing well-sweep w^ith moss-covered- 
bucket. 
Recalls the sweet sunshine of childhood once 
more. 

Then slowly dismounting he hitched his proud 
courser, 
Retracmg the foot-prints he left long ago, 
He sought the green graves where his sires were 
sleeping, 
And there he gave vent to unspeakable woe. 

Just like a panorama the scenes of his childhood 
Came up for review in an exhaustless stream; 

Both bitter and sweet recollections came forward,. 
But Bessie, — the center of every theme. 

Thus, for a whole hour, in silence he pondered 
Until his brave steed called his master away. 

Then bidding a hast}^ farewell he departed. 

Bound for the West he starts out on his way. 

At twilight that evening he reached a small village^ 
And stopped over nisfht at a farmer's hotel. 



22 HOWARD GRAY. 

Being fatigued with riding, slept soundly 

And woke at the sound of the old breakfast bell. 

Thus day after day Howard slowly pressed forward, 

Each hour brought him farther from all that was 

dear; 

'O'er mountain and plain, over hill and through 

valley, 

And wherever he gazed new scenes did appear. 



^A^ANDERING. 

,OR weeks young Howard kept his pace. 
Riding along from place to place; 
Thus far his efforts to obtain 

A situation were in vain. 

A stranger seldom stands a show; 

He tried it and he found it so. 

.At length in wonder and surprise, — 
A western prairie met his eyes; 
■Of all the sights he e'er beheld 
This one in grandeur far excelled. 
He gazed about him far and wide. 
And saw the fearless cow-boys ride 
Upon their nags of every hue; 
Across the untilled plains they flew; 




WANDERING. 33 

Their ornamented bridle rein 

With buck-skin fringe, their limbs the same; 

A sailor shirt and loose cravat, 

And on their heads a broad-brimmed hat. 

At noon he looked around to see 
If he could find a shady tree 
Beneath its boughs to contemplate, 
And think of his unhappy state. 

While gazing o'er this broad wild plain, 
No house, no fence, no tree or grain, 
One green-clad, rolling sea of land, 
A solitary sight, yet grand, 
For thousands sweetest flowers abound, 
With sweet perfume, for miles around. 
Unplucked, unseen, they droop and die 
And ne'er attract a human eye. 

In solitude they shortly reign, 
Their life begins and ends the same. 



HOWARD GRAY. 




MEDITATION. 

HUS, wondering if his life should be 
iVn emblem of lone misery, 
And, like these blossoms, pass awa}r 
Unheeded, friendless, to decay; 
To live alone and ne'er attain 
A name of honor or of fame, 
Ne'er know the sweetest joys of life, — 
A happy home and loving wife. 
Sweet, prattling babes to bless each day 
With sunshine in their childish way. 
Such bliss, thought he, I'll never share, 
And almost yielded to despair. 



HE FINDS A FRIEND. 



'UT, hark! the sound of horse's hoofs 
Approaching him. He looked around — 

Beheld a man with bearded face 
On horseback followed by a hound. 



HE riXIiS A FRIEND. 35 

His dark, keen eyes 'neath heavy brows 
Express determined force of will; 

And not alone his piercing glance, 
His thin sealed lips are firmer still. 

But as the rider nearer drew, 

His countenance seemed less severe; 

More pleasant features came to view 
Which at first sight did not appear. 

While Howard gazed it seemed to him 
This countenance he'd seen before; 

Each feature more familiar grew 
With memory and days of yore. 

It was a mystery to him; 

Yet, ere they reach their journey's end. 
Their conversation seemed to prove 

This stranger was a former friend. 

At length he dared to ask his name. 
While side by side they jogged along; 

And Mr. Williams gave the same, 

Nor did he deem his freedom wrong. 

A cattle ranch now came to view: — 

A sight quite common in the West, 
To see the cow-boys circle round 
*And lull the monstrous herds to rest. 



36 HOWARD GRAY. 

And when they reached the shanty door 
He felt quite well, despite his pain; 

To find a friend so far from home 
Revived his sinking hopes again. 

That night was spent in telling tales 
Of daring deeds in cow-boy style; 

E'en Mr. Williams did relate 

War stories causing many a smile. 

The corn-cob pipes were oft' refilled; 

A cloud of smoke filled up the room; 
The flickering light upon a bench 

Scarce visible amid the gloom. 

Sometimes a song would rend the air 
Followed by cheers or pistol shot; 

They kept it up till late at night, 

When each man soueht his narrow cot. 



'fc>' 



At break of day the following morn 
The boys were on their ponies' back 

Across the prairie to the herds, 

Light-hearted as their whip-lash crack, 



*In the evening, the cow-boys will circle round and round the 
herd, huddle them closely together; and Unally the cattle will 
He down to rest, where they remain till day-break the following 
morning. They call this practice, " Singing them to sleep."— yl. L. S. 



A RIDE OX THE PRAIRIE AT DAYBREAK. 37 

While Williams, with his youthful friend 

Departed for his city work. 
Young Howard was to share his home, 

Employed as private office clerk. 



A RIDE ON THE PRAIRIE AT DAYBREAK. 

,OW beautiful and fresh the morn 
Upon the prairie wild! 
Each sparkling dewdrop on the field 
Upon the riders smiled. 

The wild rose bushes all around 

Perfume the morning air; 
The modest violets bespeak 

That God himself is there. 

The little birds on every side 

At their approach take wing; 
While others, hidden neath the grass, 

Their morning praises sing. 

Far in the distance on a knoll 

A flock of cranes chey spy ; 
Still farther on the radiant beams 

Illuminate the sky. 



38 HO^VARD GRAY. 



The first few miles they rode along- 

But little did they say; 
Each seemed amazed with nature's garb 

At the approaching day. 

It seemed to them serene, sublime, 

A paradise restored ; — 
All but the tree whose tempting fruit 

Our mother Eve allured. 

On, on they sped ; their coursers proud 

Paced nimbly o'er the plain 
With nostrils wide, curved, graceful neck 

And massive, wavy mane. 

At length the elder gentleman 

A story did unfold. 
Amusing to young Howard's ear; 

And this was what he told: — 

" Long years ago when I was young, 
I think about your age. 
Our country w^as in trouble then, 
Rebellion fiercely raged. 

Your worthy father and myself 

Enlisted the same day; 
Our boyish hearts just thrilled with joy 

The day we marched away. 



A KIDK ON THE PRAIRIE AT DAYBREAK. 39 

Our weeping mothers bade farewell 

And kissed us o'er and o'er; 
Our fathers trembling said ^ood-bye 

And watched us at the door. 

]3ut there was one, a neighbor girl, 

Whose parting caused us pain; 
We both had sought and craved her hand 

But both had sought in vain. 

How earnesth' we both had tried 

To win this fair coquette; 
J>ut on her heart we never made 

The least impression yet. 

Sometimes I thought my chance was best 

And pressed my suit anew; 
But then, again your father seemed 

To feel elated too. 

And thus we left her at the gate. 

That charming morn in Ma}'^; 
Both sighed for Fanny Howard's love. 

Your mother, Howard Gray. 

Ah! how we pictured to ourselves 

A boyish battle field I 
With steady aim and dexterous arm 

The musket we would wield. 



40 HOWARD GRAY. 

Full soon we saw our big mistake; 

The marching was no fun ; 
The heavy knapsack on our backs 

Grew very burdensome. 

At night we'd lay our weary heads 
Upon cold mother earth, — 

The starry heavens for a roof, 
A fence-rail for a berth. 

For four long years we tramped about,. 

Half dead and half alive; 
Our comrades dropped off, one by one, 

But both of us survived. 

I often thought of our return 

With mingled joy and pain; 
It one should perish on the field, 
Would be the other's gain. 

But, as it was, we both went home, 
And, strange as it may seem. 

Our secret thoughts were just the same, 
And Fannie was the theme. 

Full soon I knew my destiny 
Despite my earnest pains; 

Your father had the inside track, 
And all my hopes were vain. 



A RIDE OX THE PRAIRIE AT DAYBREAK. 

T yielded meekly to my fate; 

Her choice had settled all. 
I moped about, while they, ah well! 

Were married that same fall. 

Since then I banished from my mind 
All thoughts of married life; 

And thus far I have kept my word, 
And lived without a wife. 

I shortly after that moved West, 

For I could not abide 
To see the idol of my heart 
As some one else's bride. 

I heard abojt the fever that 

Some fifteen years ago 
Came sweeping o'er the little town, 
And laid your parents low. 

I heard your Grandma Howard claimed 

The baby as her own. 
And here you are to-day, my boy, 

A man, and quite full grown. 

Thus ends my story of the past, 

And now I wish to make 
A proposition unto you 

For Fanny Howard's sake. 



42 HOWARD GRAY. 

If you will stay with me a while. 

And prove yourself a man, 
I'll start you up in business 

And help you all I can." 

What could young Howard say or think 

Of such a noble man? 
Silence at such a time conveys 

What idle words ne'er can. 

His heart leaped up with gratitude 

And choked him for a while; 
His tongue refused to give a sound, 
He simply gazed and smiled. 

'Tis wonderful how gratitude 

Will turn our senses dumb! 
While heart and mind o'erflow with words, 

Our lips are sealed and mum. 

He soon recovered and explained 

The sikmce on his part. 
Accepting, as you may suppose, 

With orlad and thankful heart. 

And ere the sun was half way up 

The azure cloudless sky, 
They reached the city, better friends 

Than kindred knots can tie. 



THE OLD HO.^IF. 



4? 



THE OLD HOME. 

AFTER A PERIOD OF SIX YEARS. 

IX years have passed since Howard left 
The old Snow homestead near the cliff, 
The asjDect is the same as when 
His lingering gaze beheld it then; 
But in the distance near the road 
AVe spy no more the old abode 
Where Grandina Howard lived and died. 
It was removed, and more beside; 
Her last long resting-place, the mound, 
Was tilled the same as other ground. 
No more are fragrant blossoms brou;:^ht 
And strewed upon that sacred spot, 
Now covered o'er with waving grain 
Bending lowly o'er the same. 
The dandelions, as of old. 
Have turned the meadjws into gold, 
Besprinkled o'er with sheep and cows, 
And shrubs on which the cattle browse; 
And just beyond is Mr, Snow 
Wandering slowly to and fro, 
In ineditation deep and wild; 
He lost his wife, and now his child 



44 



HOWARD GRAY. 



Is growing weaker every day. 

He fears she too will pass away; 

He feels dejected and oppressed, 

And with these words himself addressed: — 

"Remorse, reproach, aye, that's the word! 

My very soul within is stirred 

To daily hear that doleful knell, 

Suffering agonies of hell. 

Why haunt me thus with demon force? 

Why make a wretched matter worse? 

At night when slumber should repose, 

My misery no mortal knows; 

My weary slumbers bring no rest; 

The scene within my troubled breast 

Is like a heaving, roaring sea, 

Whose angry billows leap with glee 

Until the winds grow calm and still, 

But leave its waters troubled still. 

And thus awaken every morn 

To combat with another storm; 

The heedless deed my hand hath wrought; 

Its vengeance on my head hath brought. 

Could I recall that one mistake, 

A life's atonement 1 would make. 

Oh! could I see her smile again! 

But ah! the wish is doubly vain! 

Her life which was so bright and gay, 



THE OLD HOME. 

Too soon will fade and ebb away. 
Who can in all this wide, wide world 
Escape the vengeance at us hurled, 
When we have known a luckless hour 
In which advantage gave us power 
To blight a life by disrespect 
Entrusted with us to protect?' 

Thus Mr. Snow himself accused. 

He knew full well he had misused 

And placed his daughter's life at stake 

By one rash deed, one great mistake. 

For six long years she mourned and pined; 

Each day he saw her health decline. 

Her mother, too, had passed awav 

Five years ago the first of May; 

And since the time her mother died 

No friend in whom she could confide; 

Alone and frail the tender maid 

'Neath heavy burdens was dismayed. 

She feared that Howard was no more; 
He promised her in days ot yore 
That he would write her frequently; 
Which had he done, the ecstasy 
To feel and know he was the same. 
Would help her bear whatever came. 
But now she could not comprehend 



45 



46 HOWARD GRAV. 

What had befallen her best friend; 

Some highway robber must have slain 

Her youthful lover, thus to gain 

Possession of his horse and purse. 

She knew not, but she feared the worse, 

And worried on from da}^ to day; 

She sometimes w^ould kneel down and pray 

That God w^ould take the life he gave 

And give her rest beyond the grave. 

Where are the cheeks once rosy red? 
Where is the light elastic tread, 
The luster of those azure eyes, 
The heart so free from care and sighs? 
Gone, like the graceful maiden form, 
A faded flower 'mid w^intry storm; 
That cheerful voice no more will ring, 
Nor sunshine to the household bring; 
A few more days and all is o'er, 
And Bessie Snow will be no more. 

Her sire now fain would recompense 
The error of his blinded sense. 
Without delay he now intends 
To tell her all, and make amends. 
E'en now he means to tell her why 
The messages ne'er reached her eye, 
W^hich Howard sent from time to time, 



COXCLISIOX, 



47 



And he as oft to flames consigned, 
Not e'en aware what they contained, 
He only knew his end was gained. 
His guilty conscience quaked within; 
He feels the consequence of sin 
While hastening to the place where she 
Was sitting 'neath the old elm tree 
Asleep; he did not dare to wake 
His injured child, her heart would break 
While hearing such disgraceful news 
With which her sire himself accused; 
His whole frame trembled with dismay, 
As cowardly he slunk away. 



CONCLUSION. 

^HERE reclined the lovely maiden 
In an easy rustic chair, 
'Neath the elm tree's shady branches, 
Drinking: in the fragrant air. 




How the gentle summer zephyrs 

In the balmy even -tide, 
Played around her golden ringlets, 

As they from her shoulders glide I 



48 HOWARD GRAY. 

There she sat enwrapped in slumbers, 
With a brow so snowy white, 

Even purer than the hly 

Resting in her lap that night. 

Wan and pale is every feature; 

Is she dead, or still alive? 
Crushed by grief, and broken-hearted. 

Can a soul like this revive? 

See the lingering smile that ripples 
O'er those features white and pure! 

Is she dreaming of her lover? 
Can hope still her mind allure? 

See! in dreamland she doth meet him; 

Smiles disturb that slumbering brow: 
With extended arms she greets him. 

She hath reached the haven now. 

Hark! I see a form approaching, 
Human footsteps drawing near, 

While the sun's last ravs are orleaming-; 
What can bring a stranger here? 

Now he halts as if bewildered; 

Gazes on the wasted form. 
Breathes her name in accents tender. 

Helpless, hopeless, and forlorn. 



CONCLUSIOX. 



49 



While he there a moment lingers, 
She awakens from her rest; 

Reeling, tottering towards him, 
Falls upon his manly breast. 

^'Howard, Howard, I am coming; 

This is heaven, keep me here! 
I have safely reached the portals; 

Where, oh! where is mother, dear? 



See the angels hovering round us! 

Oh! behold that glorious throne! 
Safe at last from earthly sorrow, 

Howard, leave me not alone! 



Oh, 'tis getting dark and dismal! 

Howard, dear, I see you not. 
Fold me closer to your bosom, 

Leave, I pray you, leave me not!" 

There, there on his bosom the maiden re- 
clined. 
Her lily white arms round his neck are en- 
twined. 
While murmuring breezes waft up to the sky 
Her pure, stainless spirit enwrapped in a 
sigh. 



!,() HOWARD GRAY. 

While he, with the sweet precious form in his 
arms, 
Defies even death, and would shield her 
from harm. 
But death was the victor and bore her away. 
And left him defeated, bemoaning her clay 

• THE END. 



MIS0ELLAI2EOUS POEMS, 



INTRODUCTION, 

The following collection, comprising Odes, 
Epistles, lines in Albums, and other fragments, 
were written at different periods, as the occasions 
presented themselves. The author craves the pub- 
lic to bear in kind remembrance the fact that he is 
not reaching for fame in the literary world, for 
reasons heretofore stated; but simpl}^ consents to 
publish them at the earnest, repeated solicitations 
of friends. Should this little volume, falling by 
chance in the hands of some weary pilgrim, be the 
means of beguiling a lonely hour, the author's hap- 
piness will be thereby agreeably promoted. 

A. L. S. 




A PARODY. 

|H! we have a little daughter, 
Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud; 
And she's just as bright as water, 
Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud. 
She is all of three years old; 
If the truth was really told 
She is worth her weight in gold, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud. 
She is worth her weight in gold; 

Jeanie Maud. 

When from labor I'm returning, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud; 

Why my heart is fairly yearning, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud, 

She will watch each passer-by; 

How her little feet do fly 

When her papa she doth spy, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud; 

When her papa she doth spy, 

Jeanie Maud. 



56 SPRING. 

She will meet me on the walk, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud, 
And in cutest baby talk, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud; 
She will tell me all the news. 
Cheer me when I have the blues, 
And my pockets shell peruse, 

Jeanie Maud, Jeanie Maud, 
And my pockets she'll peruse, 

Jeanie Maud. 




SPRING. 

LL hail to the season that gladdens the heart! 
That causes the snow-banks to melt and de- 
part, 
That spreads a green carpet o'er hill and through 

glen. 
And beckons sweet flowers to blossom again. 

All hail to the season that brings us fresh showers! 
That turns leafless bushes to cool, shady bowers — 
A home for the songsters, a place for their nest, 
Of all the four seasons, sweet spring-time is best. 



SWEET SIXTEEN. 



SWEET SIXTEEN. 



.^7 



KNEW a maid of sweet sixteen, 
The fairest I have ever seen. 
Her presence made me feel serene, 
Content and happy; 
Her graceful gait and modest mien 
Did quite entrap me. 

The first time that we ever met 
Is something I shall ne'er forget; 
It lingers in my mem'ry yet 

As fresh as ever; 
And from that day my mind was set. 

To change it never. 

« 

'Twas in the school-days of mv \outh 
I first beheld my love; in truth 
I was an awkward boy, uncouth, 

But I could feel then, 
And make as sfood a choice, in truth. 

As anv bis: man. 

And after that with honest pride 
We loved to wander side by side. 
Upon the prairie far to ride 

With horse and carriage. 
Until at length I claimed mv bride 

By lawful marriage. 



5S , SWEET SIXTEEN. 

And since that time I often thoiio-ht 

And olessed the sacred hour which brought 

Our hearts together on the spot 

At our first meetino-. 
Nor can I wish or think of aught, 

But bless that grreetino^. 

She left her home and kindred too, 
Her friends, who always had been true, 
E'en to her birth-place bade adieu, 

And felt contented 
To live where not a soul she knew, 

And ne'er repented. 

That confidence, that heavenly trust, 
That jewel in a woman's breast, 
Outshines, out-glitters all the rest 

Of her sweet nature; 
And curse the man in whom she trusts 

If he mistreat her. 

Now some folks take it as a rule 
A boy who falls in love at school 
Is either simple or a fool. 

But I know better; 
A flame thus kindled does not cool 

To icv fetter. 



SWEET SIXTEEN. ' ^9 

A youth can make a choice as well 
While young; his tender thoughts will tell 
Whose image in his heart doth dwell; 

That is the omen, 
Unless he is too full of hell 

To love a woman. 

A youthful lover loves but one, 
Will raise her to that sacred throne 
Expressly built for her alone 

To reign forever; 
Nor can the fates his love dethrone, 

Or his faith sever. 

But older men are not so true; 
They are too fond of something new, 
And in a twinkle chang-e their hue 

They keep a "buzzin," 
Like bees 'mid flowers sipping dew, 

And love a dozen. 



6o LINES IN AN ALBUM. 



LINES IN AN ALBUM. 




ROSE, more than all other flowers, 
Through balmy nights and sunny hours, 
Through many sweet, refreshing showers, 
Conceals its heart with magic power; 

Until at length reluctant yields, 
And modestly at last reveals 
Its pu'ity so long concealed. 
Embalms its fragrance o'er the field; 

And so, friend Rose, you're truly blessed! 
Half of your friends have never guessed 
The pure, warm friendship in your breast 
Known but to those that know vou best. 



TO MOTHER 

ON HER SIXTY-THIRD BIRTHDAY. 

ONG years have slowly traced the course of 
time, 
Since you still lived at Arnhem on the Rhine, 
A little orphan girl, scarce five years old, 
Thrown on the busy world so rude and cold. 



TO MOTHER. 6l 

A tiny, sickly flower, too weak to bear 
The storms of life without parental care. 
And yet, as if by magic, you survived, 
And see your children's children live and thrive. 
We fain to-day would gather round your hearth, 
To celebrate the day that gave you birth, 
And gather flowers, the sweetest on the lea, 
And weave a wreath most beautiful to see, 
And crown your brow around your silvery hair, 
And pin it with a hundred kisses there. 
But, mother dear, no blossoms can we find, 
There's naught out-doors but snow; the cold, cold 

wind 
Is howling fiercely o'er the frosty main; 
It seems that spring will never come again. 
And so we bring a jewel, you must take 
And wear it daily for your children's sake. 
The three small sets, two rubies and a pearl, 
For Bess and me, and for our little girl. 
Remember that we often wish and pray 
That God may comfort you from day to day. 
That many, many years may yet be thine, 
That beams of hope may ever round you shine, 
And may ten thousand blessings be your lot; 
And in your prayers, we crave, forget us not. 



62 CONGRATULATIOX 



CONGRATULATION. 



iO you are to be married with Birdie, I hear; 
The announcement by mail has just reached 
my ear; 
It gave me great pleasure, as you may suppose, 
Enraptured with joy from my head to my toes. 

Accept my best wishes and hearty good-will; 
May the sweet dream of love your youthful hearts 

fill; 
May affection increase as you live for each other, 
And never grow cold, is the wish of your brother. 



A BIRTHDAY WISH. 

TO MRS. . 

EAR Mrs — , we come unexpected, 

To honor the day you so sadly neglected; 
For, as we are told by — , your daughter, 

Your birthday took place once a year, as it ought 
to. 

For forty-three years the twenty-fifth of Septem- 
ber 

Is the day we should bless, make glad, and re- 
men:j,ber; 



BIRTHDAY. 63 

So Bessie and I have ^Dut both heads together, 

As we often have done in such cold, rainv^ weather, 

And felt it a pleasure in some way or other 

To show forth our love, as we would to a mother. 

So we offer this *keepsake, and prav you will 
take it, 

As you would from your children; we as cheer- 
fully make it. 

And wish you besides many years and much pleas- 
ure 

To bless those around vou, as vou've done without 
measure. 

And may they in return strew your pathway with 
roses, 

And your children remember the commandment 
of ]Moses, 

That their lives may be long in this great land of 
freedom. 

Where our heavenly Father will keep and will feed 
them, 

Is the wish of your friends, Bessie, Jeanie, and 
Aaron, 

Dutch artist at Preston, not a duke nor a baron. 

* A pearl card case. 



64 COURTSHIP AT THE SEA-SHORE. 




COURTSHIP AT THE SEA-SHORE. 

EARS ago, they called me bashful, 
Nor could I deny the charge; 
But what happened at the seashore 
Is, I think, not known at large. 

Listen, then, and I will tell you 

What has happened unto me; 
When like other youthful lovers, 
1 sought pleasure by the sea. 

When I came there, I found shelter 

In a first-class, grand hotel; 
Plenty cash which father gave me, 

Made me think I was a swell. 

I soon formed the sweet acquaintance 

Of a maiden fair to see; 
Young and cheerful, kind and pleasant, 

And her name was Winnie Lea. 

Every day we were together; 

Sang and danced till late at night; 
Grew so fond that we could scarcely 

Rear each other out of sio:ht. 



COURTSHIP AT THE SEA-SHORE. 6 

For some time we knew no sorrow, 

And my money flew like chaff; 
Every wish of her, I granted 

With a cheerful, hearty laugh. 

Scarce two weeks passed by in sunshine; 

Then mv bliss came to an end, 
For she introduced a fellow 

Who appeared to be her friend. 

He was rather tall and slender. 

And his clothing seemed to me 
To be pasted to his body, 

Especially around the knee. 

After that I knew no comfort, 

For she was no longer mine; 
And that dude, the ghostly shadow, 

Kept her from me half the time. 

How I strug-orled to defeat him; 

Prayed a gentle zephyr might 
Waft him to the land of specters. 

Where he did belong by right. 

And althougfh she seemed to like me, 

Told me I was good and kind; 
Yet I ne'er could keep her from him 

And it preyed upon my mind. 



D 



66 



COURTSHIP AT THE SEA-SHORE. 



So at length I plainly told her 

That I never did believe 
It was lady-like for ladies, 
To encourag-e and deceive. 



to 



As I grlanced at her I noticed 

Tears bedimmed her bright, blue eyes; 
And in less than fifteen minutes 

We renewed the former ties. 

Then once more I felt elated; 

Believing every word she said; 
Pride now swelled my youthful bosom, 

Thinking I came out ahead. 

The next morning^ after breakfast 
I was gazing down the stair; 

Down below that dude and Winnie 
Had another meeting there. 

I was jealous in a minute; 

Would have given half a farm, 
If T could have knocked him endways 

As he touched my Winnie's arm. 

I could scarcely keep from jumping; 

Twice I made a little start; 
Then my left foot slipped a trifle. 

Down I thundered like a dart. 



COURTSHIP AT THE SEA-SHORE. 67 

Oh! the sHde was rough and rugged, 

Seemed to me a mile hi all; 
Every jog became more painful 

Till I landed in the hall. 

There I sat and gazed about me, 

Looking for a place to hide; 
Heeding not the pain I suffered, 

From this rough toboggan slide. 

There stood Winnie bending o'er me, 

Asking if I wasn't hurt; 
While her eyes were sparkling brighter 

Than the diamond in m}' shirt. 

And that dude, he made me tired, 
Stood there trembling at the knee; 

With his eyes as big as saucers 
He kept staring straight at me. 

I arose and shook my feathers. 

And endeavored to explain; 
But they could not keep from laughing 

And I saw 'twas all in vain. 

So I climbed upon the stairway. 

Looking like a cyclone wreck; 
Feeling like a fool and wishing 

I had broken my stiff neck. 



68 AN ACROSTIC, 

I just kept my room till evening, 

Left the dude and her alone; 
And at night when all was silent, 

Packed my trunk and skipped for home. 

Since that time I never ventured 
High-toned courting by the sea; 

But I found a little school " marm '' 
Who is good enough for me. 

And the dude may keep his Winnie, 
Feed her clams straight from the shell; 

On our farm we've eggs and butter 
Which will answer us as well. 



AN ACROSTIC. 

IRLS are, methinks, the sweetest flowe rs 
Entrusted in this world of ours, 
Resplendent to behold. 
True modesty, as I have seen, 
"^ In maidens smiles, a flow^er serene 
Engraved as if in gold. 

Many a blossom, every hue, 

Adorn the fields and gardens, too; 

None can however us beguile, 

Nor comfort bring, like maiden smiles. 




ODE TO PRESTOX. 69 



ODE TO PRESTON. 

AIR Preston, Fillmore county's seat! 
Of whom I wish to sing to-day, 
While gazing from this high retreat, 
About a half a mile away. 

Here on the bluff's, rimong the trees. 
Beneath the shady boughs I rest, 

Fianned bv the balmy summer breeze, 
Sweet zephyrs wafting^ from the west 

The winding, sparkling stream below 
For years has grandly swept along; 

Now glistening in the sunset glow. 
Its ripples mock the wild bird's song. 

With graceful curve it finds its way 
Half sheltered by the lofty brow 

Of towering cliff's of rock and clay. 
Half hidden 'mid the verdure, now. 

Its other bank, a rising ground, 

On which our pleasant village rests, 

A picture of a grassy mound. 

With trees and buildings on its breast. 



70 ODE TO PRESTON. 

The Court HouS2 dome points to the sky, 
With tall church spires on either side; 

The old grist-mill arrests the eye, 
Reflecting: in the river tide. 

The iron bridge which spans the stream, 
A noble work of art and grace, 

The dam beyond improves the scene, 
And adds more beauty to the place. 

High on the topmost hill beyond 
We see the city of our dead; 

While down below, the silent pond 
Is sleeping in its liver bed. 

The hum of industry vie hear, — 
The chiming anvils all around 

Like music falhng on our ear. 
The vales re-echoinsr the sound. 



t) 



Upon thy streets are genial men. 
Each in his chosen branch of trade. 

Who wield the cares consigned to them, 
While glancing on the progress made. 

Thy daughters, fairest on the earth. 
Adorn thy homes with modern grace; 

Prove what a healthful clime is worth. 
With rosy cheeks and smiling face. 



AX EPITAPH, 



Oh, Preston, thou art wondrous fair! 

Where'er our eye may chance to stray, 
We meet a scene of beauty there; 

All nature smiles on thee to-davl 



AN EPITAPH. 

BURY here with ink and pen. 
And hope I'll never meet again, 
A skunk in human shape. 
And, though he lives, he's dead to me; 
With stinkards I could ne'er agrree, 

Xor mourn their loss with crape. 



FIFTY BELOW ZERO. 

<^ANUARY twenty, 
Oh, dear, dear! 
We have had a plenty 
Jack Frost here. 

Jack must be a hero 

Wl|^o loves snow; 
Mercury at zero, 
Or below. 



FIFTY BELOW ZERO. 

Thirty, forty, fifty, 

Nothing strange! 
North wind blowing briskly. 
Still no change. 

Not a sign to brighten; 

it appears 
Much too cold for white men 

To live here. 

But we'll have to stand it 

Until spring; 
For we can't command it 
To take wing 

When the balmy breezes 

Come and go, 
And no more it freezes, 

Goodbye, snow ! 

Birds will sing as sweetly 

As before; 
Flowers again will greet me 

As of yore. 

So I'll stop^complaining 

And exhort 
Myself no more to rhyming, 

But stop short. 



WELCOMK. 



73 




WELCOME. 

IS autumn now, and I behold 

Yonder beauteous, distant grove, 
The tree-tops tinted brown and gold; 
There, there's the place I love to rove! 

The little warblers on their wing 

Will soon seek homes in warmer climes; 

No more the distant woods will rinof 
No more our pleasant village chime. 

But fare-thee-well, my little friends, 
I do not deem your course as wrong ; 

But in the spring, pray come again, 
And cheer us with another song. 

And thus, friend Nellie, you have flown 

Not to a sunny, southern state, 
But to Dakota's western clime, 

Allured there by your destined mate. 

May Heaven bless you, is the prayer 
Of all your friends you left back here; 

We hope when balmy spring returns, 
You with the birds will re-appear. 



74 



TWILIGHT. 




TWILIGHT. 

ENTLE twilight, hour of rest, 
Is the thought in every breast; 
After busy toil and care 

All will join thy rest to share. 

Sweet to lay our ^vork aside, 

And with thee an hour abide, 

Looking- backward on the da}^ 

In a meditating way ; 

On the course that we pursue 

And we feel our strength renew; 

Weary limbs lose half their pain, 

Sinking hopes revive again. 

I.,owly as our lot may be, 

Twilight's hour to all is free. 



EPISTLE TO JOHN AND DAVID. 

MY OLD SCHOOLMATES. 

N this cold and stormy evening 
I am thinking of 3'ou, boys. 
And the times we had together 
In our early, childhood joys. 




EPISTLE TO JOHN AND DAVID. 

And if rightly I remember, 
While I sit and ponder here, 

We all made our first appearance. 
All within the self-same year. 

I oft' think I can imagine 

Thoughts within our mothers' breast. 
When the three compared their babies. 

Each would think her boy the best. 

Those were hours of golden sunshine; 

What thought we of want and care? 
Safe upon our mother's bosom, 

What on earth could harm us there? 

But, alas! we had no knowledge. 
Could not feel a mother's love; 

Could not feel the sweet devotion. 
Next to that of heaven above. 

Next came hours of playful childhood 
When our infancy was o'er; 

First from chair to chair, then farther. 
Till we ventured out of door. 

Even then we could not compass 

Nor a23preciate the bliss, 
Till some accident would happen, 

And get healed by mother's kiss. 



76 EPISTLE TO JOHN AND DAVID. 

Even now when I'm in trouble 
I would fly to mother's breast; 

Tell her all mv care and sorrow. 
And receive her fond caress. 

Next came school-days with green primers 

And that awful A. B. C, 
As we twisted, sighed, and stammered, 

Standing- round our teacher's knee. 

There we stood, three little urchins, 

Gazing round in every nook; 
On the floor, or at the ceiHng, 

Any where except the book. 

Talk of patience with such pupils,— 

It would drive a Job insane; 
It was doubtful after lessons, 

If we knew our given names. 

But at nooning all were active. 

Then our minds grew sudden bright; 

We could shout and dance with laughter, 
Or enjoy a school-bo}^ fight. 

I remember well the frolics 

At the school-house, number eight. 

When we lived in Alto township. 
In the dear old Badger State. 



EPISTLE TO JOHN AND DAVID. 77 

There in later years we often 

Spelled the other districts down; 

And rhetoric exercises 

Added laurels to our crown. 

I recall the many parties 

Of those joyful days gone by, 
And the bashful, rosy maidens. 

As we kissed them on the sly. 

How^ the girls would slap and scold us, 

Heeding not our woeful cry; 
While a roguish smile was lurking 

in the corner of their eye. 

Lovely maidens, tender hearted, 

They forgave us naughty men; 
Their bright cheeks with crimson glowing, 

Tempting us to try again. 

But adieu to old time pleasure, 

As the hour is getting late; 
It seems strange we should have drifted, 

Each within a different state. 

And although w^e now are severed 
From the scenes we held so dear; 

Let the ties of friendship ever 
Be renewed from year to year. 



78 TiiK BOAT urnE. 



THE BOAT RIDE. 

stood one summer evenin": all alone 
Upon the iron bridge; I leaned upon 
The railing, and noticed that the sun 
Was slowly sinking out of sight beyond 
The distant hills; the western sky aglow- 
With golden rays, reflecting on the stream; 
A sight so beautifully grand to see. 
The graceful willows on the bank did seem 
In dreamy mood to sway and lowly bend 
As if they tried to. lull the stream to rest. 

Above the dam came drifting with the tide 

A tiny boat which bore a youth and maid, 

Both young and full of hope and life they seemed, 

Contented as the fragrant air they breathed. 

The youthful maiden seemed so pure and young^ 

A lovely rosebud, drifting on the tide; 

Far sweeter than the wild flowers peeping from 

Beneath the cliff' which overhangs the stream; 

And he, how gallantly he plies the oars, 

And gazes on the form he holds so dear; 

How carefully he doth select each word 

Lest it should not be pleasing to the one 

Who with her charms has turned into a heaven 

This twilight hour; nor would he nreak the spell 



A REPLY. 79 

To him far dearer than all other bUss, 

His joys complete, how could he wish for more? 

I turned away, and wandered slowly home; 
Turned from the scene so sacred to them both, 
And left them in their joyous, happy dream; 
Unheard, unnoticed, save their Maker, God, 
Who in sweet nature's ^arb did smile on th.-m 
With all the grandeur only known to Him. 



A REPLY. 

'Tis true, we cherish but few flowers 

Of all we gather far and near; 
And also of our many friends, 
But few our hearts hold dear. 

Oft' I shall think of thoughts you give 
The many callers at your home; 

And wonder if in thy pure breast, 
A thought of me is known. 



ODE TO ALGONA. 

LGONA, I behold thee still ! 

Thoughfour long years have passed away 
Since destiny against my will, 
Compelled me from thv streets to stray. 




80 ODE TO ALGOXA. 

Can I forget the broad wild plains, 
Can I forget the shady grove? 

Ah no! in fancy still remains 

The scenes where once I used to rove. 

How oft' I wandered o'er th}^ hills 
At early morn, at close of day; 

The thought my breast with longing fills; 
Too soon those moments sped away. 

Thy green-clad teeming plains I see, 
The sweet wild flowers of every hue, 

The wild rose bushes w'elcome me, 
Algona, I am still with vou ! 

Thy grand majestic groves I see, 
The haw^thorn bushes covered o'er 

With blossoms which oft' beckoned me, 
Still 'waken memories of yore. 

With horse-shoe curve the silent stream 
Is slowly flowing calm and fair; 

O'er hanging boughs bend low and seem 
To see themselves reflected there. 

And then again, the river tide 

Sweeps grandly on in hallowed bliss; 

Where sunny banks on either side. 
Are waiting for a sdent kiss. 



ODE TO ALGONA. Si 

Here on the bosom of the plain, 

Encircled bv the winding: stream; 
The fairest city on the main, 

Algona, thou dost reign supreme! 

To all four winds thy thoughts are sped 
Along the wires with lightning force; 

Thy produce likewise, be it said, 
Is marketed in every course. 

For miles around the fertile soil 

Brings forth each year abundant yield; 

Lgrge herds of stock with little toil 
Are pastured on the untitled fields. 

Upon thy streets are men who seem 
To have ambition, pluck and pride; 

Progression is the noble theme 
Thy vales re-echo far and wide. 

Thy homes show forth on every side, 

The mark of industry and wealth; 
Thy sons toil on with honest pride. 

Thy clime affords them strength and health. 

Thy daughters gracefully adorn 

Thy homes or palaces of rest; 
With countenance as bright as morn. 

And love and virtue in their breast. 



TO A SIXGEK. 



Adieu I adieu I thou prairie queen ! 

Adieu ! broad fields of waving grain I 
Thv shady groves, and winding stream, 

Adieu I proud city of the plain! 



^^ 



TO A SINGER. 

Her voice ^vas ever soft. 
Gentle and low— an txctllent ihin^Mn woman. 

— Shakespeare. 

,WEET shiger of this western clime, 
Thy voice so pure, almost sublime. 
Thy name appropriate for thee 
A warbling birdie, blithe and free. 
Then let not sorrow mar thy joys, 
Be not deceived by dudish boys; 
But if a man with noble heart 

Should say "Dear ere we part, 

Pray let me whisper in your ear," 
Just lead him on, and you will hear 
A tale, though old, will seem so new, 
'Twill tint your cheek a rosy hue. 
And you will breathe as sweet a note 
As ever swelled a birdie's throat; 
Your song will be just one short word; 
To you this may seem too absurd, 
But he will love to hear you sing-, 
And trade his "coppers" for a ring. 



' WHAT DO YOU WAXT HSRE 



"WHAT DO YOU WANT HERE? " 

To the party who so successfully surprised us, November 
first. 1SS7, these lines ^re lovingly inscribed. 

N dear old county. Fond-dit-lac, 

Where I was bred and born, 
A land o'er-flowing as it were, 
With honey, milk, and corn. 

I soon grew up to be a man, 

Light-hearted, wild and free; 
I cared not what the fickle fates 

Might have in store for me. 

How happily the time passed by, 

Until, perchance, one day, 
A Scottish lass with winsome wavs 

Happened to cross niv way. 

And if you think I could forget, 
Kind friends, you're off the track; 

When-e'er I cast her from my mind, 
That moment she was back. 

I struggled on from 3'ear to year. 

But ne'er obtained relief. 
Until at length I married her; 

That settled all mv frrief. 



84 " WHAT DO YOU WANT HERE ?" 

She had her choice and named the day, 
The first day of November; 

A lucky day, the neighbors said, 
And easy to remember. 

And since, — each anniversary, 

In our own simple way. 
With three-score rosy girls and boys 

We celebrate that day. 

And so it was last Tuesday eve, 

We had another spree; 
And all the villag-e children came 

To fill our hearts with glee. 

Our little home is far too small 
To let them romp and play; 

We locked the door and fell in line, 
And then we marched away. 

And as we slow^ly marched up town, 
They all cominenced to sing 

With joyous hearts they fairly made 
The air with music rino^. 

Each passer-by would halt with awe 

To solve the mystery; 
For so much sunshine after dark 

Is singular to see. 



"what do you want here?" 

We halted at my studio; 

It was a glorious sight 
To see them play the good old games 

Till ten o'clock at night. 

And Bessie previous had prepared 

A culinary show, 
With dainties for the little ones 

On a cloth as white as snow. 

At ten o'clock they bade good night 
With wishes and good will, 

Long life, and peace, and happiness, 
Me-thinks I hear them still. 



And then we slowly wandered home, 
The moon shone wondrous bright. 
The very heavens seemed to smile 
Upon our heads that night. 

And when we reached our cottage door 

I soon produced the key; 
When lo! the door flew open wide. 

Great Scott! what could it be? 

Why there stood Gray, the Mayor, too, 

And thundered in our ear 
In tones that shook our little cot, 
"What do yoii folks want here?" 



86 "what do you want here?" 

And back of him stood Mrs. Gray, 

And Dr. Jones and wife; 
Nellie, Arthur, Emma, George, 

And Carrie, sure as Hfe. 

Oh! how they laughed and whooped it up, 

The door still open wide; 
While we stood looking sheepishly, 

Like lambkins side by side. 

They bade us enter, so we did. 

But still felt ill at ease; 
They seemed at home, (while we did not) 

As happy as you please. 

At length the truth began to dawn; 

'Twas meant for a surprise, 
And slow but sure the film caine ofl 

That seemed to fog my eyes. 

I then beheld our kitchen board 

Prepared by dextrous hands; 
We soon were circled round the same 

At the Ladies' kind commands. 

What happened after that, — ah well, 

'Tis useless to explain! 
The gratitude we felt that night, 

No words convey the same. 



A S(3NNET. S7 

For who would dare so vain attempt, 

To other souls impart 
By writing down with pen and ink 

The feeling of a heart. 

* 
We may not live a hundred 3 ears, 

But this full well I know. 
You'll hold a place within our hearts 

Wherever we may go. 




A SONNET. 

ENTLE as a summer breeze fans a tree, 
Sweet as a rose that first begins to bloom, 
Mild as a ray of lightfrom the new moon. 
Innocent as a child from all sins free, 
Content as a robin that sings with glee. 
Bright as the golden sunbeams shine at noon, 
Fair as zephyrs that still the evening gloom, 
Pure as the v^hitest lily on the lea, 
Happy as a rdl that ripples sweetly by, 
Lovely as the sunniest morn in May, 
Attractive as a spring beside the wa} , 
Modest as a violet bloming nigh, 
Graceful as a cloud upon the sky. 
Sweet ISIaid I thou art the subject of my lay ! 



88 



LINES TO UNCLE AND AUNT. 




LINES TO UNCLE AND AUNT. 

ON THE BREAKING UP OF THEIR FAMILY. 

HREE months have scarcely passed away 
Since Bess and I did wend. our way 
Back to the land that gave us birth 
And once more gathered round your hearth. 

Like birds in the parental nest, 
We likewise found you truly blest 
With all your children; though full grown 
They still adorned the dear old home. 

But now it seems a change has come, 
We hear they leave you one by one; 
Thus two have left you since last fall, 
You soon will have no bairns at all. 

First, Mary with her roguish eye, 
With young McDonald dared to fly, 
On wild Dakota's plains to dwell 
Far from the home she loved so well. 

Next, Agnes changed her maiden name; 
She, doubtless, thought it was shame 
For Mary to become a wife 
While she still led a single life. 



LINES TO UNCLE AND AUXT. 

But such is life on every side; — 
A child grown up, cannot abide 
And feel contented and at home 
Until he has one of his own. 

To marry is the safest way, 
For us poor mortals to obey 
The laws of nature and of life 
In happy wedlock, man and wife. 

Of bachelors don't talk to me; 
Their happy life, so blithe and free, 
Is but a dry and wretched fate 
Compared with men who have a mate. 

Nor old maids mention, if you please; 

Their hfe of comfort and of ease 

Is but a vacant life at best, 

And love a stranger to their breast. 

Compare with them a wedded pair 
With three, four children, bright and fair, 
Who cheer them on from day to day, 
And, when they die, weep o'er their clay 

Your pleasant home where I have spent 
So many an evening of content; 
Those parties, when I was a boy, 
I oft recall to mind with joy. 



89 



QO A PRAIRIE FIRE. 

'Twas there I recollect full well, 
Up to my ears in love 1 tV 11 
With bonnie Be^s; it makes me laugh, 
I call her now my "better half." 

But, ah! 'tis sad, we all must own 
To see the children leave their home, 
As one by one their mates they find 
And leave the dear old folks behind^ 

But life is transient: this we know, 
Like flowers we come, we bloom and go; 
Old blossoms slowly fade away, 
While new ones glisten bright and gay. 



A PRAIRIE FIRE. 

Sacred to the memorj of Edward and Kate Maloney, 
friends of the author, and very dear to him, who were de- 
stroyed by a prairie fire at Huron, Dakota, in the spring of 
1887. 

HE sun was shining bright and clear 
Upon Dakota's plain, 
While Ed Maloney in the field 
Was busy sowing grain. 




A PKAIRIE FIRE. ol 

His sister Katie with a friend 
Were in the house close by, 
Merrily chattingr, not aware 
That clanorer was so nisrh. 

The wind was blowing fierce and wild 

Across the level plain. 
But not with thunder, hail or snow, 

Nor cheerless drifting rain. 

It was a fiendish, prairie fire, 

Like demons leaping forth; 
Its fury on destruction bent, 

A hell upon the earth. 

The flames were raging lo the sky 

With roaring, crackling sound; 
With lightning speed it swept along 

The dead grass on the grround. 

The frightened maidens leaped with fear 

Out in the open air; 
And Edward with the horses came 

Just as the fire drew near. 

A gust of wind, with fire and smoke, 

And flames of burning hay 
Swept o'er them in a single stroke 

And took their breath away. 



92 A PRAIRIE FIRE. 

There lay the poor unfortunates 
Upon the burning ground; 

What could they do to save their lives 
With fire all around? 

So unexpected did it come, 

No time to contemplate; 
To perish 'mid a sea of tlames 

Appeared to be their fate. 

Dear God ! we do not understand 
Why those Dure lives should fal', 

And meet v^ith such a frightful death; 
They were. beloved by all. 

So young; so full of hope and life, 
Devoured by reckless flames, 

Here 'mid the ashes on the sod 
Behold the charred remains. 

Wail ! distant hills, and mourn w^ith u<, 
Our friends have perished here; 

Moan ! gentle, summer breezes, moan, 
And shed a dewy tear! 

Come, all ye songsters of the air, 
And gather round thg c-iene 

And tune vour saddest, sweetest notes 
In melodv serene! 



LISF.S TO MISS . 

Wild, teeming plain*-, upon who-e breast, 

The sad event took j^-lace. 
Moan to ihc corner- of ihe t arth 

When darkness hides your face! 

Look down, ye angels, from above, 

And teach us to be calm; 
Anoint the aged parents' hearts 

W^ith soothing, healing balm I 

How sweet there is a hope beyond 

This mortal scene of woe, 
Where saints are clothed in spotless robes. 

As Dure and white as snow. 



93 



LINES TO MISS 




HE flower 3-ou kindly gave to me. 
As on the street I passed you by, 
Is truly beautiful to see. 
In brightness it resembles thee. 
But not so pleasing to the eye. 

Its beauteous hue a crimson shade. 
Supremely bright: but ah I I sigh 
To think how soon 'twill droop and fade; 
The sweetest flower, the faire'^t maid; 
Ves, all on earth must wane and die. 



94 



LINES TO A YOLXG LADY 



LINES TO A YOUNG LADY. 

Upon reading a/ew poems composed by her at the early 
age of thirteen. 

^RIEND — ; — ,with 30iir sparkling eyes, 
I always knew that you were wise; 
But, really, ^irl, I am surprised 
In thee to find 
Such thought; who would have guessed could 
rise 

In thy young mind? 



Hold to the muse that guides your mind 
In tender years, and you will find 
Shell be a friend both true and kind 

In grief or joys. 
And not inconstant as the wind 

Or fickle boys. 

Although the world should frown or smile. 
And mock your efforts for a while, 
Some d^3' your stanzas will beguile 

Some weary breast, 
Who will appreciate your style 

And call you blest. 



LINES TO A YOUN'G LADY. 

How sweet when one can think and write 
And feel the mind ha^ taken flight; 
It seems to soar far out of sight; 

Enraptured thought 
Steals o'er us in the stilly night 

With joy we sought. 

Our mind, in truth, is our best friend, 
On whom we always can depend 
As soon as we can comprehend. 

An hour alone, 
The o-reatest blessing^ fate can send 

We all must own. 

And should you stray out in the wood 
Some day, perchance in gloomy mood, 
And o'er some sad misfortune brood. 

The o-entle muse 
Islnv turn the saddest hour for good. 

And stop the blues. 

She'll show you nature, and portray; 
The hills and valleys will seem g^ay 
At early dawn; at close of day 

All nature's fair. 
The groves in their magestic sway 

Invite you there. 



95 



96 AVRLCOME HOME. 

You'll feel above the common lot, 
The cruel world can harm von not 
You will not wish or breathe for aught 

But to remain, 
And linger near the sacred spot 

That knows no pa'n. 

Then keep on with the gen lie strain, 

Your efforts will not be in vain, 

'Twill bring you joy, and ease your brain 

To make a rhyme; 
Your mind will brighten up again 

With thousrhts sublime. 



WELCOME HOME. 

'ELCOME ,welcome home, 

^Pi^>^ Welcome to thy native clime! 

Welcome to thy parents' cottage. 
Let their tendere^t love be thine 




Friends on every side will greet thee, 
Here where thou art known by all; 

Some perchance with tears of gladness, 
Some with praises thee appall. 



WELCOME HOME. 97 

Not with honeyed soiiof ot' praises 

Do I greet thy presence here, 
Flattery is but deception 

And is not within my sphere. 

But thou knowest, in gloomy weather 

Rays of sunshine will beguile 
Many a dreary frown we harbor, 

And replace it with a smile. 

Thus the cheerful smile of girlhood, 

Casts upon our weary way 
Ravs of sunshine, thoughts of gladness, 

Bidding elder hearts be gay. 

Youthful m:iidens are like rosebuds; 

On the bush, how purely bright! 
But remove them, soon they wither, 

Almost vanish out of sight. 

Ne'er can they embalm their fragrance 
Like a full grown blushing rose; 

Left by thorny stem protected, 
'Mid the KavfS until it Mows. 

Thus I welcome thee, friend — — . 

Safe 'mid fond parental care; 
May their tender love and guidance 

Be thy counsel everywhere. 



98 



HO-MEWARD. 



HOMEWARD. 

'■With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, 
Glides the smooth current of domestic joy." 

— y~oknson. 



|OME from labor I'm returning, 
And for rest I long and sigh; 
Weary limbs are fondly yearning 
While our little cot I spy. 

Humble is our little cottao^e, 
But 'tis large enough for three; 

It affords us ample shelter, 

And 'tis heaven on earth to me. 



There a smile for me is waiting 
As I enter through the door; 

When I cast my cares behind me 
Half my weariness is o'er. 

Though the world smile on me coldly, 
Still my loved ones fondly cling, 

And uphold me as a hero 
Who can do most anything. 



A FRAGMENT. 99 




A FRAGMENT. 

S I came home to dinner 
I The other day at noon 
As hunorry as a sinner 
And stupid as a loon, 

Our Httle daughter met me, 
As fast as she could fly; 

She had some news to tell me 
I noticed in her eye. 

And long before she reached me 
She told me that the cat 

Had " free tute lichel tittens 
In papa's old black hat." 

How eagerly she told me 
This funny bit of news; 

Then with a dozen questions 
She drove away my blues. 

Oh! precious little children, 
You fill our hearts with glee! 

Why some folks don't like babies 
Is a mystery to me. 



lOO COMPAXIOXSHIP. 



COMPANIONSHIP. 

AN EPISTLE TO MY FRIEND, AND COMPANION OF 
FORMER DAYS. 

AM thinking of you, Clarus, 
And the days of long ago, 
When \ve both were m the Grange Store 
I above and you below. 

Well I know the place was dirty 

All around in every nook; 
And when e'er the wind was blowing, 

Goodness, how the building shook! 

There we lay 'mid ragged bed clothes 

Spread upon the dusty floor, 
Talking of our future prospects 

While we heard the blizzard I'oar. 

And at night while " cold as blazes," 
We would seek our humble bed, 

And upon the caseless pillows 
We would lay our weary heads. 

There we lay amid the rubbish, 

With the coal stove all aglow, 
And through cracks behind the counter 

We could spy the drifting snow. 



COMPANIONSHIP. lOI 

Rats and mice, instead of angels, 
Poured out blessings on our heads; 

And sometimes in playful frolics 
They would skip across our bed. 

We would 'waken from our slumbers 
When our customers would knock 

At the door so bright and early, — 
Sometimes nine or ten o'clock. 

Then we jumped as if bewildered 

With the loud and bold alarm; 
Scratched the bed behind the counter 

Like two roosters in a barn. 

Some would think life was a burden 

With encounters rude as this; 
But it seems to me, friend Clarus, 

Like a pleasant dream of bliss. 

Like a dream I still remember, 

Cherish it with honest pride. 
How I wish we still could wander 

In our friendship, side by side. 

But 'tis past; yes, gone forever; 

But our thoughts will ever flow 
Backward to the Grans^e Store buildingr 

And the joys we used to know. 



103 COMPANIONSHIP. 

Here our friends would come to see us 
From the country and the town; 

I recall them all quite clearly, 

But I need not write them down. 

Memory will clasp them fondly; 

Hold them with a fond embrace; 
And I see them in a vision, 

Well I know each smilino- face. 

There your noble little sister, 

To her duties would attend; 
Make out statements for her brother, 

Speak a kind word tor her friend. 

There she toiled from morn till evening 
While the customers came in 

With their pails of eggs and butter, 
Or, sometimes, a little tin. 

How some folks would think and wonder 
Would it wash, or would it fade; 

Finding fault and acting silly 
On perhaps a ten- cent trade. 

Do you ever stop to ponder 

How we fixed that Dr. C, 
His grammatical effusion 

Did not worry you and me. 



TO A HAWTHORN BLOSSOM. IO3 

How we con(|uerc(l hini with kindness, 
Tamed the brute so fierce and wild, 

Till he was as meek and orentle 
And submissive as a child. 

But why write another feature? 

I have given you a start; 
If you would recall more stories, 

I refer you to your heart. 

I oft sit in meditation 

And recall. the blissful past; 
Bitter drops are also mingled 

Which remain while life doth last. 



TO A HAWTHORN BLOSSOM. 

,WEET hawthorn blossom, welcome! 
Thrice welcome unto thee! 
Thy perfume is so wholesome 
And very dear to me. 

Thou art the fairest emblem 

Of purity I know; 
In truth thou dost resemble 

A flake of spotless snow. 



I04 BREAKING A COLT. 

The lily may excell thee, 
In size I know it will; 

But when e'er I smell ihee 
Thou art the dearest still. 



BREAKING A COLT. 

LD settler Smith from Smitherville, 
A worthy farmer of renown 
Was sitting on the green one day, 
Beside his farm house south of town. 




His hopeful son whose name was Jack, 
Came from the barn-yard on his way, 

Leading a long-haired, stubborn colt 
To let it drink some rods away. 

Good-natured Jack, he tried his best 
To lead the vicious, kicking brute; 

But all his efforts proved in vain, 
The beast seemed very hard to suit. 

Old Smith, by this time getting mad, 

Exclaimed, "Why don't you ride him Jack? 

If I were you I'd fix him soon, 
I'd climb upon his pesky back." 



BREAKING A COLT. I05 

But Jack possessed a little sense, 

And thinking while his father spoke, 

Replied, " I have a'good long neck, 
But do not care to have it broke/' 

" Confound it, let me show you how! " 
The old man yelled, and rose meanwhile; 

And climbed upon a four board fence, 
Assuming an assuring smile. 

" Bring forth that boss! " the colt was brought; 

He tried his best to get astride; 
The colt was not quite near enough; 

His son pushed on the other side. 

At length the old man took a leap 
And landed square upon his back; 

He seized the rein, and smiled once more. 
And then commanded " Let go, Jack! " 

At first the colt seemed paralyzed 
With fear, and stifly paced away; 

While Smith called back, "What do you think? 
I'll ride a colt like this all day." 

No sooner had he said these words 

The colt reared with a sudden bound, 

And flung the old man in a heap 
(Most sad to see) upon the ground. 



io6 



LINES IN AN ALBUM. 



The colt went skipping o'er the green, 
While Smith arose and tried to speak; 

He shook the knots out of his legs 
His words were anything but meek. 

His son came running to the scene, 

His heart with sympathy was touched. 

And asked him in a tender tone, 

" Say, father, did it hurt you much?" 

The old man answered, but with pain, 
He was not in a speaking mood; 

" Perhaps it did not hurt me much, 
But didn't do me any good." 




LINES IN AN ALBUM. 

ES, Dick, I do recall to-day 

The many times we used to meet. 
To practice our first actj.ng play, 
The drama, called, " Out in the Streets." 

We sent for wigs and tableau lights, 

And fooled away our hard earned cash; 

And all to play a single night 

The farce entitled, '' Hans von Smash." 



LINES TO A LADY FRIEND. I07 

Then ''Ladv Aiidley's Secret," which 
We phiyed with ample pomp and pride; 

And then our company got ditched 
And got into a fuss be^ides. 

It strikes me now, I hope I'm right, 
That men who have to work all day, 

Should go to bed and rest at night, 
Instead of fooling with a play. 




LINES TO A LADY FRIEND. 

Who was longing for the return of her parents, who 
were abroad. 

HILE gazing in this cheerful fire 

Bright sparks are flying from the grate; 
My heart overflows with strong desire 
To try and cheer poor lonesome — . 

Bright sparks of fire of brilhant hue, 

Oh! mock me not when I ain sad, 
Just teach me something I can do. 

To cheer my friend and make her glad. 

I met her on the w^alk to-day, 

And gazed upon her snowy brow; 
And something in me seemed to say 

Your little friend is lonesome now. 



loS LINES TO A LADY FRIEND. 

I looked again and I could read 

A ihoiiofht I knew she woidd not own; 

Her longing wa^ severe indeed, 
But bravely bore her grief alone. 

Her parents both have gone abroad 

To try Eureka's milder clime, 
Where violets spring from the sod, 

And roses blossom all the time. 

Thy parents in the land of flowers 

Still linger near the ocean; yet 
Though balmy air beguiles each hour, 

Think not that the}^ can thee forget. 

Their dailv thoughts I know, are thine 

In flov^^ery dell or near the sea 
While gazing on the foamy brine, 

When wrapped in slumbers dream of thee. 

So cheer up , do not yield 

To homesickness and lone despair, 

Pray listen to a friend's appeal, 

WMio joy and sorrow with you shares. 

A few short months and spring again 
W^ill make us glad as oft before. 

Thy parents will return, and then 
'Twill be like happy days of yore. 



WlJKSHIP OX THE HILL. I O- 




WORSHIP ON THE HILL. 

SUNDAY MORXIXC, MAY 6tH, i888. 

GAIN I breathe the fragrant air; once more 
Gaze on the vale I oft' beheld before, 
And rest upon the same old rocky brow, 
All snow and ice a month ago; but now 
Bedecked with beauteous blossoms fair to see; 
On everv side thev seem to smile on me. 
A little goldfinch, scarce two rods away 
Upon a bush pours forth his sweetest lay; 
Be not afraid, my little friend, nor quit 
Thy charming lay, or twig on which you sit. 
1 will not harm thee nor molest thy song, 
I love thee well, how could I do thee wrong? 
Sweet bird, knowest thou this is the Sabbath day? 
And this our place of worship on the hill? 
Beneath the canopy of heaven we'll pray 
Together, worshiping the Sovereign will 
Of Him, our Maker and our God of love, 
Who said that he would look from heaven above 
Where two or three were gathered in His name. 
And pour abundant blessing.^ on the same. 
Then let this be our service of to-day. 
I sit and listen, while you sing your lay, 
Praiire God, on whom we all for breath depend: 
Praise God above, with me, my little friend! 



no 



TO MR AXD MRS. A. P SMITH. 




TO MR. AND MRS. A. P. SMITH. 

OF PIPESTONE, MINN. 

HE melancholy wintry days again, 

Have cast a gloomy aspect o'er the main; 
Two months ago the summer clays were o'er 
And ever since we heard the Storm King roar. 
But yesterday and day before it seemed 
As if I did not feel the cold, and dreamed 
We had a few warm, balmy, sunny days, 
And fancied that I saw the golden rays 
Among the parting clouds, upon the sky, 
A summer scene and pleasing to the eye. 
My (h'eam was not a dream, but really true. 
The two short days of summer sunshine, too, 
Were 'wakened memories of other days, 
Aftection's coals rekindled to a blaze, 
When you and your beloved wife were here 
To fill our hearts with gladness, and good cheer. 



HUSH, THE SUMMER WINDS ARE SIGHING. 

|USH, the summer winds are sighing, 
Gently, sadlv 'mid the gloom. 
While we place a precious treasure, 
Slowly, gently, in the tomb. 



FARMERS SONG. Ill 

Young and fair was winsome Minnie, 
Loved by all who knew her best; 

But, alas, her days are numbered. 
And we lay her down to rest. 

Tears we shed of deepest sorrow. 

But they never can re^^tore 
Minnie and the years of sunshine. 

VVe shall see her smile no more. 

But there is a home above us 

Where a blessed Savior waits. 
Beckoning his children onward 

To the pearly, golden gate. 

Here we bow in meek submission, 

Father, God, thy will be done; 
Take our richest earthly treasure 

Savior, bear her safely home. 

FARMERS' SONG. 

AIR, — "tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march- 
ing." 

S we gaze the county o'er, 

Farmer's hearts are getting sore, 

As we look upon the ruined fields of grain, 

Caused by chintz bugs and by rust, 

Imps of hades 'neath the dust, 

Gnawed the roots and killed our growing crops 
again. 




112 FAKMEKS' SONG. 

CHORUS. 

Tramp, tramp, tramp, through FiUmore County, 

Cheer up farmers and be brave; 

In perhaps another year 

Not a chintz bug will be here: 

Antl our rolling fields with golden grain will wave. 

Just look back a year ago 

When we first began to sow, 

Oh how little did we think 'twas all in vain; 

As from day to day we'd toil. 

Sowing in a fertile soil. 

And expected soon to gather in the grain. 

CHORUS. 

Oh it was an awful sight, 

To behold our fields grow white. 

Long before the time to reap, to bind, and shock, 

Getting worse with every morn, 

Then they ruined half the corn, 

And we had but little hay to feed our stock. 

CHORUS. 

But we wintered safe and sound. 

While the snow was on the ground, 

Though our stock looked rather poor and gaunt 

last spring; 
And to-day we're all alive 
With our thrifty, noble wives. 
And we seem to he ir the babies sweetlv sincr; — 



FARMER HARWOOl) S ADDRKSS TO HIS WIFE. II3 
CHORUS. 

So then let us iry once more. 

Not to feel so blue and sore, 

For this year our sherls are loaded down with hay; 

Corn and "taters" look quite well 

And we'll have some stock to sell, 

So I bid you cheer up comrades and be gay. 

CHORLS. 




FARMER HARWOOD'S ADDRESS TO HIS WIFE. 

"An honest peasantry, a country's pride, 
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.'' 

(loldstnit/i. 

NOTHER summer passed and gone, — 
Another year has flown away, 
Our homestead has the mortgage on, 
Which ten long years we tried to pay. 

Yes wife, we've labored hard, I vow; 

We've tried our best to get along. 
But reall}' I'm discouraged now. 

For everything is going wrong. 

Last year we had no crop at all; 

No fodder for our hungry stock; 
No soft, warm flannel in the fall; 

No overcoat or fur trimmed fruck. 



114 FARMER HARWOOD's ADDRESS TO HIS WIFE. 

Our children had to go to school 

In calico, so thin and cold, 
It made me shiver like a fool 

To see those garments patched and old. 

Their sweet young faces had a look — 
E'en though they never did complain — 

I saw the tears they tried to brook; 
It gave my heart exceeding pain. 

How oft' f watched them on their way 
Amid the drifting, biting blast; 

They tried to feel content and gay, — 
I did so hope 'twould be the last. 

How truly glad I was last spring 

To see the snow-banks melt away; 
I loved to hear the wild birds sinor; 

My heart re-echoing their lay. 

« 

Yes, carefully I tilled the ground, 

And scattered broadcast o'er the lield 

The precious seed so plump and sound. 
Expecting an abundant yield. 

From day to day I watched with care, 
As children do a treasured toy, 

And often I would breathe a prayer, 
I almost could hav^e w^ept for joy: — 



FARMER HARWOOD S ADDRESS TO HIS WIKE H; 

And all my hopes were gratified 

With sunny days and showers of rain, 

I felt content and satisfied 

While gazing on the wavy grain. 

But ah, the dreaded chintz bug came. 

Together with destroying rust, 
And took our growing crops again, 

And flung my prospects in the dust. 

And here we are again, dear wife, 

Much worse oft' than we were before; 

I never yet in all my life 

Have felt so wretched, mean and sore. 

A long cold winter coming on. 

The storm king stares us in the face; 

Our purse is empty; all is gone 
Except the mortgage on the place. 

I never stopped to think, dear wife; 

To my regret. I was a fool; 
I have been busy all my life. 

And labor was the golden rule. 

But now it seems there's something wrong; 

When crops were good we could but gain 
A living as we went along; 

To pay up debt was always vain. 



Il6 FARMER HARWOOD's ADDKKSS TO I'.IS WIFE. 

We waste our years of strength and liealth; 

Our days of vigor flying fast; 
Our produce brings but little wealth; 

Our labor cannot always last. 

And then again, for thin^rs we need 
We have to pay a double piice; 

MonopcJv with fiendish greed 

Cuts from our labor many a slice. ' 

I'm but a plain, hard working man, 
And have no extra brains to spare, 

But know I labor all I can 

To aid some wealthy millionaire. 

Yes, millionaires as smooth as oil. 

Increase in number every where, 
While laborers with honest toil 

Can't get enough to eat and wear. 

I hate to grumble at the law; 

My Bible tells me to be meek; 
But want has struck my soul with awe, 

And something in me bids me speak. 

Dear wife, 'tis not the hand of God 
That brought about this cunning plan 

To rule us with an iron rod; 
It is but selfishness of man. 



STAXZAS IN AN ALBUM. uy 

But it is Lite and time to seek 

An unpretending place of rest; 
I told you this peculiar freak 

To ease mv care-worn, troubled breast. 

Go bring: the Bible from the shelf. 
The good old book 1 dearlv prize; 

A world of riches in itself, 

That is not bound bv mortgage ties. 

The faithful wife produced the book. 
Which opened of its own accord 

To Nehemiah, chapter tilth, 

And they perused the holy Word. 

Then knelt they down in humble praver. 
With lines of faith upon their brow, 

And earnestly thev pra\ ed that God 
Would send a Nehemiah now. 



STANZAS IN AN ALBUM. 

CANNOT help but think, friend Kate, 
How truly blessed the man will be. 
Who somedav will be fortunate 
Enough to share his life with thee. 

Your cheerful smile from dav to day, 
Like sunbeams dancing on the lea. 

Like roses strewn upon his wav. 

How could he choose but wor^hip thee? 



Il8 LINES TO RUTH. 



LINES TO RUTH. 

O NIGHT, I have the meanest cold 
That ever yet has taken hold 
Of me with fiendish power; 
Yet, tune my harp and let me sing. 
And bid my restless thoughts take wing, 
Let song beguile the hour. 

And while I sing I'll serenade 
Fair Ruth, the ever cheerful maid, 

With beauteous raven hair; 
Whose eyes like stars in beauty shine. 
Whose sunny smile is more sublime 

Than sunbeams in the air. 

Yes Ruth, I sing not to the dames, 

The proud, high born whose haughty names 

In leading papers shine; 
Although they travel far and wide 
In costly robes with pomp and pride. 

And drink the choicest wine. 

What though at Washington they dance, 
And round the greatest statesmen prance 

And dress elaborate; 
And spend a fortune every year, 
And nearly rob their papa dear, 

Can never make them g-reat. 



LINES TO RUTH. II9 

Give me a maid, friend Ruth, like thee; 
As independent, bright, and free, 

And not afraid to toil, 
A girl who can in time of need 
Earn her own food and clothes, indeed. 

And make no great turmoil. 

These are the girls that I admire. 
To them I tune my willing lyre, 

In gentle strain of praise. 
Hail to the countless thousand girls. 
The grandest, purest, brightest pearls 
On which the eye can gaze! 



